


Amusement Parks and Other Ways to Die

by Twelve (Dodici)



Series: Comfort Zone [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Established Relationship, M/M, Swearing, hi everything i touch becomes a rom-com, more like canon ages don't matter at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dodici/pseuds/Twelve
Summary: During a trip to the Dark Continent, Gon and Killua big-brother a bunch of edgy teenagers, punch a giant octopus and even manage to get an almost lovely anniversary-date thingy out of it.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Series: Comfort Zone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595449
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Amusement Parks and Other Ways to Die

**Author's Note:**

> Surprisingly enough, this isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever written.  
> My English insists on being pretty awkward, so feel free to point out mistakes!
> 
> Oh, there are roller coasters in this thing XD If you're emetophobic, this is definitely not for you. Please take care <3

Gon’s most astounding skill must be his natural talent at making the most foolish ideas sound awesome. It’s always been like that, even when they were both twelve and dumb. 

Killua isn’t twelve anymore and, despite still having legitimate doubts about his own dumbness, the universe has imparted some hard lessons on him. Like how he shouldn't entrust every fiber of himself into Gon’s hands while he’s busy elaborating convoluted ways to die, for example.

“I know what, we could go on a hot-air balloon!” 

“Where are you going to find a hot-air balloon?”

“Well, we are in Yorknew,” he rebuts and it kinda makes sense, only it totally wasn’t the point. The point, in fact, is evidently still bouncing inside’s Gon skull like a pinball ball. “Oh, I know what, we could go bungee jumping, I’ve always wanted to try it out… And I’ve also heard about this acrobatic paragliding thing, which is almost like regular paragliding, only…” 

“Gon,” Killua says. “You have to choose one thing, it’s just a day, not a vacation. And we both have work on Monday.”

“Right, sorry,” Gon says, biting on his tongue without managing to look sorry one bit. “I’m just excited, you know? It’s gonna be awesome!” 

Those are the words that wise people don’t say. Ever. So, Killua elbows him hard in the ribs and hits him with the toothpaste tube. 

“You’re going to jinx it, I swear.”

Gon whines, the same big, shocked eyes of a good, old dog who’s been hit by the master that he loves so, so much. Killua doesn’t drown himself inside the sink, but sure as hell he thinks about choking on his own toothbrush. 

Gon is half-laughing, half whining still.

“Don’t be silly, Killua, you’re not superstitious,” he says. His stupidly green electric toothbrush is spraying water and probably saliva everywhere. 

“Put that thing down, it’s gross.”

“Is it?” Gon asks, blinking. 

“Of course, it’s been in your mou-”

The kiss is dumb and unexpected even if Killua should have started to expect them at this point. It’s also really wet and, well, still gross.

“You’re the dumbest boyfriends I know,” Alluka says, when they finally re-emerge from the bathroom, way wetter than after their shower and sporting toothpaste on their faces.

Killua doesn’t answer, that much he did actually learn. 

Gon, though.

“How many boyfriends do you know, Alluka?”

She turns her head: Leorio and Kurapika are in the kitchen intent on discussing who ate the last lactose-free yogurt; their faces are so close it seems impossible they can still see each other over the thickness of their stupid romantic tension.

“Those two are more than enough to set really high standards,” Alluka says, in a sigh loud enough to be heard by the both of them. She’s already inside the bathroom then; behind the closed door, she growls in exasperation at the mess Gon and Killua left behind.

*

Superstition aside, it probably is – going to be awesome. 

They usually don’t really care about this kind of stuff. They aren’t even sure about the date because it was so late at night and they had never been separated for so long before; they were screaming apologies and half accusations at each other when they realized they were, in fact, confessing feelings – but they did kiss, that Killua remembers fairly well. Sometimes his brain just bursts spontaneously at the thought even after all these years.

So, it’s not exactly what one would call a cute memory, but it’s still their first kiss and it’s still their anniversary-thing. Day. Whatever. 

“I can make pancakes, Abe told me how!” Gon is saying, half-muffled by his own shirt as he tries to put his pajamas on. “Or we could pack some lunch and just make a trip out of it! Like the old days!”

At this moment Killua isn’t exactly sure what he means with ‘old days’ but these days everything that isn’t work sounds simply wonderful. 

His new job at the cinema has been pretty cool so far, way better than twirling around tables in a fucking uniform carrying carefully arranged gourmet dishes while Menchi yells at him non-stop; but he’s there five evenings a week and always on the weekends while Gon goes to help Kite at the lab at too fucking early a.m. and he delivers food on his bike like traffic lights don’t mean a thing and… basically, they didn’t get the chance to do as much as sleep onto each other for the past few weeks. Hell, it’s been an entire month since they spent alone time during which they were simultaneously conscious. 

“I know what, we should totally hit the Biopark! I heard from the guys that they have rescued this awesome alligator…”

“Aren’t you a bit tired of animals after dealing with animals all week?” Killua asks, but he is honestly more amused than bothered. He can’t really decide if Gon’s eyes are lit up by the orangey tones of the old table lamp or by enthusiasm, like every time he talks about something that interests him – animals, mostly. The more and more deadly the merrier he is.

He frowns, like he’s seriously pondering the question – like he always does when the question comes from Killua. 

“I don’t think so. I mean, we never get to actually _be_ with the animals back in the lab, just study them, you know?”

Killua really hopes that they’re not going to interact with alligators. He fought a bear once because that’s what his family considers useful to ‘growing character’, he earned himself a big, really difficult to explain type of scar – even more difficult than the ones from knife practice – and he’s completely sure that he doesn’t want to try his luck with reptiles too. 

He makes a point of yawning then, and snuggling a bit more on the proximity of Gon’s collarbone. There’s a spot, there, where his head somehow fits perfectly.

“Killua?”

“Mh,” he says. Mumbles. He’s trying, really, it’s just… He’s pretty fucking comfortable, that’s all.

“What would _you_ like to do?”

Killua opens both his eyes and finds the dulled green of Gon’s shirt still there, waiting. 

He opens his mouth too, but nothing comes out. He tilts his head and Gon’s chin too is waiting for him to answer.

“I don’t know,” he says, weirded out and then promptly embarrassed. He hates being like that, constantly undecided to the point of looking uninterested, but his mind is completely blank. “It doesn’t really matter, the Biopark or whatever sounds fun.”

“Yeah, but-” Gon starts and then – of fucking course it would happen then. “What was that?” Gon says, but Killua is already standing, one finger on his lips, a hand on his shoulder and eyes fixed on the door. 

“It can’t be Kurapika, it’s way too early,” says Killua, eyes squinting into sharp lines. He can feel his body setting in that hard, elastic mass of blunt force that made him able to survive that special fucked up brand of years-long boot camp he was subjected to as a kid. 

“Maybe it was coming from outside,” Gon says, but he too is whispering now, eyes peeled and fully alert, like a wild animal. 

The second, brief stomp is coming from outside too, but definitely too close. 

“I’m going to have a look. Go wake Alluka,” says Killua and it comes out as an order even if he didn’t really want it to. 

Gon doesn’t look happy one bit. 

“I’m coming with you,” he says, and he’s already opening the door because he’s an asshole. 

Killua doesn’t keep a knife under his pillow anymore since he’s not living in a household where you have to expect that your older brother will show up at night for a surprise attack like they’re in a barrack ready to be shipped to war. He kinda regrets it now, so he takes Gon’s multipurpose pocket knife just to be sure and steps in the corridor holding it in a firm grip near his ribs. 

“Fuck,” Leorio says, eyes open wide in the dim light casting from his own room. “You heard that too?” He too has got a knife because he grew up in the bad part of the city. “They chose the wrong house to break into,” he says, face blank and stony stare.

“We should yell something, to scare them away,” Gon says, and he’s surprisingly the most reasonable of the bunch. 

Killua’s only thought is that Alluka’s room is the closest to the kitchen and if someone is going to threaten his sister, he’s not sure he’s going to be lucid enough to abide by laws or even common sense. 

The light flashes on so suddenly that Killua has barely the time to shove Gon behind himself and they stumble upon one another because of course the idiot was trying to do the exact same thing.

Kurapika, polka dot pajamas and bedhead, stares at them like they’re a newly founded cult trying to convert him to their questionable nighttime activities. His finger is still pressed on the light switch.

“What are you morons doing all gathered here?”

They can’t really answer. The black shadow looms over the windows once more and the old structure cracks under expert hands, just right before the windows squeaks like a frightened animal. The shadow swears. 

“Oh, hi Kill,” Kalluto says, one leg already inside. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Killua blinks at his purple galaxy-patterned leggings and at the screwdriver he’s wielding. 

The window squeaks again and a crowbar falls down with a loud thud, just right beside Kalluto’s backpack, full of tingling anime pins. 

In the other room, Nanika starts crying. 

*

Killua would really appreciate it if the level of anomaly in his life would sometimes diminish to something manageable like paying bills and juggling jobs and studying and taking care of Alluka and Nanika with only two hands. 

He uses one to pat her on the head as she sips her chocolate milk and eyes Kalluto like she doesn't remember him. Kalluto, on the other hand, proceeds to ignore her in pure Zoldycks fashion until Gon proposes to get her to fetch the big No Face plush that she loves to use as a pillow when she gets scared. 

Killua doesn’t deserve Gon, but he isn’t really sure he deserves Kalluto’s drama either.

“I never ask for anything!”

Killua looks at him, incredulous, but he doesn’t use the Bulbasaur mug to hit him on the ear. 

“I would prefer if you do, instead of, you know, break inside my apartment in the middle of the night like a burglar!”

“Like you should be scared of burglars, you’ve fought a bear once!”

“Is this just a family meme or an actual thing that happened, because it’s often casually thrown in conversations and…” asks Leorio, who always asks. He asked how on earth did Kalluto manage to free-climb three stores too, like Gon hasn’t done the exact same thing when they collectively forgot their keys a couple months ago.

Killua stops him with just one calculated glance and Kalluto snorts, annoyed. 

“Granpa is right, you’ve grown soft,” he says, eyes half-lidded and such a pitiful, condescending tone. Killua hits him with the mug and the screwdriver falls.

“Killua!” Gon blurts, from the other room. 

“He fucking asked for it,” he barks, before double face-palming with vigor. “Do mom knows you’re here? Of course she fucking doesn’t... Did you just run from home? Illumi’s gonna materialize here like an entire fucking SWAT squad and strangle me, but before he gets the chance I’m going to strangle you, so that we can have a convenient double-funeral.”

“Illumi doesn’t need to know!” Kalluto hisses, like a scared cat. “And, anyway, no one is going to know before… What are you doing?”

Killua doesn’t divert his eyes from the phone.

“Calling grandpa. He’s going to yell at me, but his voice can’t reach the same decibels mom’s does, so maybe I’ll be at least spared from a migraine if not from family court-martial…”

He doesn’t even manage to press the call button before he has to swing away from Kalluto’s reach. He’s gotten taller, Killua’s way of keeping him distant with just one hand isn’t as effective as when they were little. 

He removes his arms and he lets him fall forward, but he grasps him from the hoody of his sweatshirt before his forehead ends up colliding onto the corner of the table.

“Listen, they’re not going to find out until morning!” Kalluto says and he’s sounding pretty loudly distressed, which is a real first for him. He clasps his hands together in prayer – Killua is sure he’s fucking dreaming this whole interaction. He hopes to wake up promptly with Gon’s drool on his shoulder. 

“I’ve left a decoy, it will be fine…”

“You’ve left a decoy for Illumi. The one who _taught_ us how to set a decoy…”

“It’s. Two,” Kurapika says, even if it’s actually still half past one. “I have to go to work in less than two hours. No one cares,” he adds, when Kalluto pouts, outraged, and Killua opens his mouth. “I don’t care. Sort this thing silently or sort it outside or don’t sort it at all for all I care, now…”

The bangs, they make Killua’s blood run freezing cold. Kalluto freezes too, mouth agape, and they exchange a look of pure horror. There’s a poignant pause and then another set of three, loud bangs that come unmistakably from the apartment door.

“Illumi?” Nanika asks, peeking in the room. Her eyes are blank and her voice so tiny and hoarse, like she’s predicting their imminent death. 

Killua squares his shoulders, ready, Kurapika looks puzzled and Leorio still has his knife in hand. 

It’s Gon the one who simply gets there to ask. 

“Who is it?”

“Open the door,” says a sweet, deadly voice. 

Gon swallows.

“Hi, mx Pitou, we…”

“Open the door,” Pitou repeats, voice still deadly sweet.

“Don’t open the door,” Leorio says, eyes wide. “They’re going to kill us.”

“I may not if you open the door,” Pitou answers, in a soft purr.

Kalluto is frowning really hard, one hand pressed on the temple where Killua has hit him.

He mimics a ‘who the hell?’ with his mouth and Killua presses the bridge of his nose hard between his fingers.

“We’re really sorry, we thought there was a burglar inside, but it was a false alarm,” he says, loud ad flat. Not even remotely apologetic enough, but really, if Illumi is coming there to kill him, he’d probably prefer a faster if maybe messier death at the ends of Pitou’s claws.

“Did you, now,” Pitou says, humming like a cat. “Open the door, I’ll help you.”

“Don’t you dare open the fucking door, Gon, I swear,” Leorio says and Kurapika growls so loud no one of them registers what he’s doing until he has already pressed on the doorknob.

“Good morning,” he says, his serious business face up. Since he works in security, his business face is pretty threatening too, despite his totally unthreatening body size.

“So you do know it’s in fact _morning_ ,” Pitou says, softly. They’re wearing a nightgown and wielding a baby bottle like it may in fact contain nitroglycerin. Killua wouldn’t exclude that beforehand. “What time is it?”

“It’s two,” Kurapika answers, stubborn and suicidal. “That’s what I was saying.”

Neferpitou smiles, sweet and cat-like. 

“What do you think about it becoming your collective time of death?” they says, studying their own long nails like they’re going to use them to eviscerate everybody. “You woke Meruem up. He wasn’t feeling well and Pouf had finally managed to put him to sleep. But then you woke him up, you made him _cry_.”

“We’re really, really sorry,” says Gon, stepping up before Kurapika has the time to express the extent of his couldn’t-give-a-damn attitude. 

“He cried,” Pitou insists, like that’s the point. “No one likes it when Meruem cries and, as I’m sure you all know, I had to go to work tomorrow.”

“You’re not going anymore?” Gon asks, wary.

Pitou shakes their head lightly, lightly. Their curls bounce around graciously. They’re the scariest person Killua has ever seen and he grew up with Illumi monitoring his homework. 

Kalluto too is frozen, mouth agape, and Leorio retreated beside Nanika and looks ready to clutch at No Face too. 

“How could I? I’ll probably be in jail tomorrow. You know why?”

“Mass murder?” Kurapika proposes, like he wouldn’t be included in the victims count. 

“Exactly,” Pitou says, purring. “Sounds pretty inconvenient for everybody, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” says Gon, nodding. “Super inconvenient.”

“So, here’s a lovely alternative I have for us all. You’ll be quiet for the rest of the night. So, so quiet I’ll have to think that no one is living here. Then, tomorrow, one of you will take care of Meruem for the whole day, while Youpi and Pouf take the day for themselves. You’re going to change his diapers, make him lunch and play with him until he’s tired and, oh, he’s never tired of playing,” they adds, and it’s like they’re describing some kind of torture. “And if I consider your work worthy, then I’ll ask again anytime I want, and you get to live another day without me pouring laxative in your water tank or _worse_. Sounds good?”

“Perfect,” Kurapika says. “Would that be all?”

“I hope so. Have a good night,” Pitou says. When they turn, it becomes visible that they were keeping a very, very long meat fork tucked inside the belt loop of their night-gown.

*

They retired inside Gon’s and Killua’s room, Nanika refusing to leave Killua’s side. 

She’s still looking at Kalluto like she’s indecisive if she’d like to run or ready to throw herself in the middle to protect Killua. He pets her hair and forces himself to remain calm on her behalf.

“Who’s going to babysit Meruem now?” Gon asks, while Kalluto grumbles something about crazy living arrangements. 

Killua breathes, smiles and doesn’t smack him on the head again. He pets Nanika’s one last time while Gon picks her up to carry her to bed. Killua doesn’t deserve Gon, he never will. He isn’t sure about deserving that headache too, but he definitely didn’t get to have a choice in that.

“Would you explain what the hell possessed you to come here in the middle of the fucking night?” he asks, in a pointed whisper before Kurapika seriously opts to kill them off instead of leaving the pleasure to Pitou or one of their just as much murderous housemates – Killua doesn’t exactly know what is the arrangement there, but he’s still pretty sure that Meruem will grow up in a much safer and more loving environment than that of Killua’s own perfectly socially acceptable heteronormative family of seven.

That’s exactly why he can’t really restrain himself to at least feel a bit anxious about this whole ridiculous situation. He’s been punished big time for way less than running from home in the middle of the night when he was Kalluto’s age and he can only sweat at the mere thought of Illumi thinking he has done anything to instill the idea inside their usually perfectly obedient little brother’s head.

“They’ve been unreasonable,” Kalluto says, seated on Killua’s own bed with his knees tight and his face dark under his well-kept fringe. “More than usual,” he adds, because Killua was already protesting. 

“Tell me about it,” he says, and he was being sarcastic, but Kalluto sighs and pulls his legs up, shoes already discarded. 

“I just… I’m a responsible person. I’ve always been the responsible one.”

That’s a bit of a broad statement, but not exactly wrong. Killua should win a medal for diplomacy at this point, because he limits his answer to a condescending shrug. 

“I am! I always do what mom says, don’t I? They put me through school and I’m good at it. I never stir trouble. I don’t buy weird stuff online like Milluki and I’m not contrary like you. I’m…”

“Yeah, I guess you’re the responsible one, then.” The responsible one who breaks into his brother’s apartment in the middle of the night. 

“I’d never do something if I thought it wasn’t safe or reasonable or…”

“Kalluto,” Killua says in his most definitive tone. 

Kalluto puffs his cheeks and sighs. 

“I have an internet connection.”

“Starting from the same day internet became a thing, yes. We are related to Milluki, remember?”

“Yeah, exactly. What I mean is… I sometimes talk to people online, you know? In perfectly normal spaces like Facebox and Squabble and… Well, I was bound to make acquaintances at some point.”

“Acquaintances,” Killua repeats, dumbstruck. “You made internet acquaintances. What kind of acquaintances are we talking about.”

“People, they’re just people! Most of them are from around here, they’re kids! They go to school and have jobs and…”

“Is one of those job serial killing or organ trafficking, because you’re supposed to be smarter than that.”

“That’s what I told mom!” he says, almost aggressive. “I’m not stupid, if I thought one of them wanted to steal my kidneys we wouldn’t even be here talking about this.”

Killua feels the sudden urge to inhale, so that he can be sure his brain stays inside his head instead of just dripping out of his nose. 

“Okay, so these people…”

“We’ve decided to meet up. Just to… hang out, that’s all. At that dumb amusement park, there’s a whole lot of new attractions... Anyway, there won’t be another occasion until the next Comicon and I’ll need to at least meet a couple of them before I even think of asking mom to let me go…”

“You want to go to the Comicon.”

“Why do you all make it sound that weird? It’s just… I have hobbies, okay? Just because your hobbies are running from home and Gon freakin’ Freecs it doesn’t mean…”

“I have lots of hobbies, you cockroach, what are you even implying.”

“What. Ever.”

“So,” Killua says, tired. “You made internet friends.”

Kalluto’s usually blank and pale face is sporting an uncharacteristic shade of pink tonight.

“They’re fun to talk to, that’s all,” he says.

“I’m not judging you for finding friends.” The whole thing would have been way easier for him if they weren’t weird people from the internet but, okay, Killua can pretty easily understand how that dynamic played out. He wouldn’t have ever found actual friends if it hadn’t been for Gon’s own weirdness, so it’s not that surprising that Kalluto too managed to find peers between potential serial killers on the internet instead of inside a high school classroom like he had hoped he would. “That’s a good thing. I just don’t get what breaking into my apartment at two in the morning has to do with it. Why didn’t you simply call me.”

“Yeah, sure, like you would have let me come anyway… I know I’m not your favorite,” he adds, with open resentment. 

“What does that even mean,” Killua says, tired. “Anyway. What kind of hanging out are we talking about…”

“I told you, they’re going to the Dark Continent…”

“What.”

“The amusement park, brother. Hello, how old are you again? What do you do in your free time?”

“Bold of you to assume I do have free time,” he answers, on the verge of desperation. Maybe he just imagined to say it, because Kalluto proceeds to promptly ignore him. 

“They asked me to go with them. Mom didn’t like it.”

Of fucking course. That woman doesn’t like anything that can potentially involve her kids actually enjoy themselves, as far as Killua knows. 

“Dad?”

“He was… You know how he is. He didn’t tell me I couldn’t, but he was…”

Cryptic. Disinterested. Messing with your head until you think you decided to do what he wanted you to do on your own accord. 

“Not happy. And he may have talked about you and that Gon guy as a vague example of all evils.”

“That Gon guy is the guy you’ll have to thank for the fact that you’re not going to sleep on the couch, you know?”

Kalluto rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. I really don’t know what you see in him, he looks so loud. At least my acquaintances are cool,” he says, sounding totally uncool while he calls his friends _acquaintances_. Killua hits him again, just to make a point. 

“What does everything have to do with me, that’s what…”

“Come with me? With us,” Kalluto blurts. “Please, it will be fun! You don’t even need to actually interact with me, okay? You just have to be there so you could say to mom that you’re watching on me or whatever and…”

“Why the fuck didn’t you ask Milluki?”

“Milluki is an ass.”

That’s true. Still not a good reason.

Kalluto growls.

“You know he hates going out. It’s even worse since you’re not there anymore to play Magic with him in the backyard. And my acqua… My _friends_ ,” he corrects himself and Killua knows is a desperate tactic to ingratiate him. “They actually suggested I took someone with me, since I’m the youngest and all that. Chrollo is taking his cousin Shizuku! Please brother, you’re the only one who can do it.”

“Illumi would be happy to watch you from aside in his most creepy fashion. He would probably buy you an ice-cream.”

“Yeah, he totally would,” Kalluto says. “That’s exactly why I don’t want him to come.”

And scare my friends away – that he doesn’t say. Well, it’s not like Killua doesn’t get the sentiment loud and clear. 

“I’ll do it,” he says, in a whim. Gon isn’t going to hate him. Gon is way too awesome to hate the big ball of screwed up that Killua subsists on since he was born. “But I have a condition.”

Kalluto doesn’t even flinch. These kinds of things, that’s exactly how their whole family operates.

“Shoot.”

“You’ll have to act like a fucking human being to Alluka from now on.”

Kalluto blinks, taken aback, but Killua doesn’t divert his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can leave right now. It’s not like you would be in danger at night, you can kick at least ten aggressors blindfolded and unharmed, and you’ve got a screwdriver so you’ll be fine. I mean, since you’re not gotten soft unlike someone else…”

Kalluto rolls his eyes once again, but Killua can see him giving in.

“I was joking, Kill. I know you’d still kick my ass in a fight.”

“You bet I would. Promise.”

“Jeez, right. I’ll try and be more…” He stops gesticulating midways before crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what I should do.”

“Try say hello and thank you and you’re welcome. Call her by her name, instead of _it_ or any other fucking mean thing it comes to mind. Hell, just try to make eye contact, at least it would be a start.”

Kalluto has dropped his chin on his knees at some point. He looks even younger than fifteen somehow and that’s an accomplishment given that in Killua’s mind is still a toddler most of the time.

“I don’t really hate her, you know? At least not because she’s a girl, I get _that_. I’m just weirded out about the whole creepy personality-thing. What was all that…”

“Alluka has any right to get scared if supposed burglars show themselves up at two in the morning. And when Alluka gets scared Nanika comes out, it’s not rocket science and it’s not dangerous.”

“It’s weird, though.”

“It’s a condition. It’s under control and Nanika can be pretty funny to hang out with, you know? You’d get a little sister without mom and dad traumatizing another daughter.”

“I don’t need a little sister,” he says, cheeks puffed. 

Killua sighs, hard, and pokes on his face until Kalluto exhales. 

“Go to sleep, you dumbass. I’ll go get Gon.”

“Don’t you two dare do anything gross while I’m here or…”

“I’ll do whatever the heck I want with my best friend in my room while you occupy my bed,” Killua barks, hand already on the doorknob. 

“You can call him boyfriend, you know?”

Killua freezes on the spot and he’s trying really hard to swallow embarrassment and a comeback. Kalluto scoffs and it sounds almost like a laugh. He bounces on the bed a bit, before falling on his back onto the mattress.

“You’re practically married since middle school and even grandpa knows it. It’s fine,” he says. “I mean, it’s super lame, but not because he’s a boy.”

Killua doesn’t hit him for the umpteenth time and he figures it’s enough of a thank you, honestly. 

*

Killua wakes up to a crick in the neck and a weird, buzzing sensation of hot and cold swinging from ear to ear. 

It’s still better than the times he woke after training when Illumi had spent the evenings before trying out some new interesting headlocks on him. 

His neck pops and his hands find nothing but warm, crinkled bed sheets. 

“Gon?” he asks, in the darkness. But the only other sound coming from the room is Kalluto’s even breath. 

He throws himself up, already fully alert, and steps out of the room, foot padding carefully to not make any sounds.

Alluka’s door is open, since she hates to sleep in secluded spaces. Killua can easily discern the outline of her head on the pillow, the rest of her body looks like a blob of blankets, No Face must still be clutched in her arms. She’ll have to ask Nanika to fill her in about tonight if she hasn’t already. 

Killua yawns and steps into the kitchen, the sun is almost up and there’s a veil of silvery light stretching out from the broken window to the old couch. 

Gon has sunk himself on the wobbly orange pouf, though, and he’s scrolling on his phone while nursing a cup of something steaming that smells like heaven. 

“Ehy, Killua! I woke up and didn’t want to bother you… Coffee?” he asks, like he isn’t offering salvation. 

It isn’t even Killua himself the one who doesn’t deserve Gon’s existence: it’s the whole universe. They should collectively start building shrines to worship his brilliant palm head. 

Killua pets him so that he doesn’t feel the urge to cry. His throat is a bit sore, maybe he did scream a bit too much on Kalluto’s face yesterday. 

“I’ll get it,” he says and his voice comes out stupidly hoarse. Gon shoots a glance at him, but Killua is already gone, head in the cabinet to search for his Pikachu mug. Kurapika is always stealing it because he’s an ass, so Killua has to take the Jigglypuff one that’s officially Alluka’s – Gon is just that disgustingly thoughtful with his presents.

Killua feels like barfing anytime he thinks about it. Or declaring his undying love, one out of the two. 

He sits back on the couch inhaling coffee and trying to keep his head up instead.

“You okay? You’re never sleepy in the morning,” Gon says. His eyes are gold in the dawn light and Killua is painfully aware that he’s looking at him like he’s a magical creature – he is, a bit – so he burns his tongue with the coffee and appreciates the lash of a flavor on his palate. He’d like to add more sugar but the kitchen is an entire table away, so he opts to kick Gon lightly in the side. He grins and kicks him back, a bit more forcefully; they go back and forth until they have to put their mugs safely on the table before they burn themselves like a couple of idiots. 

“We’re not going to the Biopark today,” Gon says, calm like the ocean he's born surrounded by. 

Killua closes his eyes and exhales, head on the carpet and feet entangled with Gon’s. 

“I’ll have to call home. I mean, if Illumi isn’t already driving an entire helicopter with my helicopter mother on board to catch us by surprise.”

“She really is pretty overprotective, isn’t she?” says Gon and then furrows his brows so hard that Killua is expecting some kind of very deep existential question. Or maybe some very uncomfortable specific one on how she’s always been overprotective in all the wrong ways and so sorely negligent in others – the ones that counted the most. 

“Does Illumi really know how to drive a helicopter?”

Killua groans and presses his face on Gon’s neck so hard that he doesn’t need to admit that he too, knows how. 

He almost manages to doze off, Gon’s hand tracing idle patterns on his scalp, when his phone starts screaming the raging first notes of the Imperial March. 

“And this is the sound of my day from now on,” he says, because Gon is laughing and Killua doesn’t deserve him but it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to poke him really hard while he tries to stand up without face-planting on the couch. 

*

The Imperial March was a joke, Killua put it up as his mother’s ringtone when he was fourteen mostly to piss Milluki off, since he was the only one who actually got the reference.

Now, Killua has come to dread every note and he hasn’t already black-listed her number just because… Because of cases like this, really. 

“For the one-hundredth time, mom, he’s fifteen and can survive the zombie apocalypse on his own, you and dad made sure of that,” he says, temples drumming with her wailing. “Of course he’s going to come back home I’m not a kidnapper… God, just fucking strike me with a lightning or something,” he says, to the bulgy little cacti that decorate the tablecloth. “No, I was talking to God… Not Gon, mom, God! Can I speak with dad please?” She wails so hard Killua has to physically remove the phone from his ear. He plops it on the table with the rest of his head and smiles, when Gon’s hand leave the mug just in the line of his vision. He has refilled it with hot coffee. “I’m not _trying_ to overstep you, I’ve already done it,” he says, as fast as he can in between her sobs. “I just… Please, pass dad on okay?”

She passes him on to Illumi. At this point, Killua isn’t even surprised anymore. 

“She is very upset, Kill. What did you do this time,” he asks, and for one, astonishing second he sounds like a genuinely worried son. Killua is as much more genuinely inclined to hurl the phone out of the window this exact second. 

“I didn’t do anything. Kalluto…”

“Dad was very pleased with his decoy. I, otherwise…”

“This has to be a nightmare,” Killua tells the table, since evidently his brother isn’t listening to him. “Listen, he just wants to hang out with some kids for some hours. I’m assuming the lots of you isn’t idiotic enough to think that he’s going to be in danger, so tell me what the hell is your problem so that I can solve it and go on with my life, okay?”

He makes eye contact with Alluka, who’s just emerged from her room with the fuzziest bedhead and is looking at the world from puffy eyes. She yawns and takes in the scene with a tilted eyebrow. 

“Our family is a dumpster fire,” Killua mouths, one hand to cover the receiver.

“Old news,” she replies, as she sits beside Gon. He hands her another mug and a box of sugary cereal and she starts munching without diverting her puzzled gaze from the broken window. 

“I didn’t dream Kalluto breaking in from that window. Did Nanika take over? She’s too sleepy and isn’t making much sense,” she says, but Killua’s eardrums are already pretty much occupied.

“You should understand our mother’s distress better than anyone, Kill. She’s obviously worried that our little brother will end up abandoning her without any warnings the day he turns sixteen. Like you did,” Illumi adds, as if it wasn’t perfectly clear already.

“So everything is my fault just like usual, that’s a relief,” Killua says, in a sigh. “Lovely talking to you, pass me on to dad or I swear I’m going to fucking kidnap Kalluto for real.”

“I don’t think you would and I’m also pretty confident that our mother’s worries are unjustified,” says Illumi, without changing his tone one bit despite the very loud, whining objection in the background. “Anyway, it would be way more comfortable for everyone if I come watching over him while he does his, ah, playdate.”

“Comfortable is the last word I’d use for the mental image of you standing creepily in the background while our teenage brother tries to spend an afternoon with a couple friends… Can’t we just leave him alone? Kalluto loves mom, God knows why. He isn’t going to trade her off for a bunch of random kids on the internet even if it would be the recommended course of action by eleven psychologists out of ten.”

Illumi sighs, heavy and dump, and for an irrational, brief moment of madness, Killua almost feels sorry for him while the sobs of their mother reach unparalleled heights, enough for Leorio to peep out from the door with a stethoscope hanging from his neck and ask if Killua has finally lost his mind and slaughtered someone. 

It doesn’t last. 

“I’m coming there to pick Kalluto up. Please be reasonable and let’s avoid one of your dramatic tantrums, it will be…”

“No way,” Killua says, surprising himself first. “I’ll take him.”

“You’re taking him back home?”

“Fuck you, Illumi. I’m telling… I already told him, so this isn’t me asking for permission, this is me debriefing you on how things are going to play out.” Fuck, it’s empowering. He has a business voice, apparently. Alluka looks at him with the biggest eyes and Gon grins, that little shit. “Kalluto is going to his fucking play… I mean, he’s going to spend the day with his friends. I’m going there just to keep an eye on him and if nothing weird happens you’ll have to calm the fuck down… Yes, mom, I’m talking to you! You’ll have to fuck the calm down and let him go wherever he wants on his own, got it? Awesome. Have a good day or whatever.” He hangs up. 

“What are you two dumbasses laughing about?” he asks, because now Alluka is coughing milk inside the sink and Gon is sprawled on the chair, rocking back and forth with both hand pressed on his stomach.

“Fuck the calm down!” Alluka howls, crying. 

Killua is already too fucking tired for this shit. Gon stands up to hug him and probably preventing him from drowning himself inside his own mug. 

“So,” Leorio starts, when they’ve stopped being too loud to be dealt with before ten on a Sunday morning. “If you’re going to kill yourselves on a rollercoaster, I’m definitely not going to have anything to do with Pitou in any capacity and Kurapika sure as hell won’t, who’s going to babysit little Meruem?” he asks, wary and decaffeinated.

“Maybe they already forgot?” Gon says, and he’s going to jinx it. 

Killua doesn’t even manage to say it aloud before the doorbell rings. 

*

Kalluto’s friends are juvenile delinquents that look ready for juvenile detention. 

“They should like them a lot,” Killua says, puzzled. “They look like they wouldn’t have a problem killing a new-born just to please Satan and my family _loves_ Satan. I don’t understand.”

“So you got a dark baptism like Sabrina?” Gon asks. Alluka made them sit down with her to watch all two seasons because she was too scared to watch it alone.

Killua doesn’t answer, he’s still trying to _asses_.

Shalnark looks like an inconspicuous kid with a blank face. He’s busy filming the scuffle between short Feitan and tall Phinks, who were this close to punching each other senseless since second one. 

The rest of the group is meanwhile engrossed into reminiscing memes and laughing at obscure internet references – it’s like watching a chat-room but live.

Killua is honestly too surprised at the fact that he’s managing to remember at least half the names after the speedy introduction Kalluto subjected him to. 

Kalluto is the worst part. He looks weirdly at ease, which is saying something, since Kalluto never looked at ease one day in his life from the first second he came off the womb. 

Killua sighs, hard. 

“That big Koala guy gave me a map!” Gon yells. He’s trotting towards him because of course he was already being operative while Killua was stuck contemplating his own life choices. 

He jumps over a puddle and ends up flapping the map right over Killua’s face.

“Now I get why the mascots don’t usually talk, that guy smelled so much of smoke and his voice was super scary,” Gon says. The koala man is taking photos with children back near the entrance and he looks a lot more like some furry gangster than a cute mascot. 

Gon flips the map upside down and tries to find their current location in the web of colorful geometrics and pretty dumb amusement rides names. 

“I’m really fucking sorry,” Killua says, over the hem of the map. 

Gon blinks a couple times, looking behind his own shoulder like he thinks Killua is apologizing to 

the nuclear family of four that’s trotting behind them wearing a full set of koala’s ears.

“Why?” he asks, with his most candid tone just to make Killua’s guilt levels spike to stab him in the ribs. 

“You wanted to go see the alligators,” he says. “At least I’m pretty sure you didn’t want to spend the day chaperoning a bunch of teenagers to prevent them from killing themselves on a roller coaster.”

Gon looks at the looming profile of the biggest screaming coaster and grins _hard_.

“It’s called Contorted Coaster and it looks pretty fun,” he says, bouncing on his heels before patting Killua on both shoulders. “It’s fine, Killua! We can have fun too, we’re barely older than teenagers ourselves, you know?”

They are. Still, sometimes Killua feels pretty fucking old, but maybe it’s his headache talking today. 

He lets Gon spun him around fast to catch up with the actual teenagers, who are discussing plans for the day like they’re arranging some kind of criminal activity. 

The goth teen with the edgy knee-long sweatshirt and the slick hair isn’t the oldest looking, but sure as hell is the boss, all intent into pontificating to the others attentive faces like they’re in the middle of a debriefing.

Killua is starting to contemplate the hypothesis that Kalluto’s recent darker choosing in clothing and nail paint might be his fault. That would mean that this short, weirdly charismatic edge-lord succeeded where Illumi’s own brand of carefully crafted, horror-circus-performer style failed into influencing any of his siblings. Killua might have lent all his Illumi’s hands-me-down to Alluka’s and Nanika’s creepy dolls, when they were little.

“I think your brother is already enjoying himself. We should try too,” says Gon, still grinning with a didactic index raised like a sword. “And if we have fun we should take Alluka with us, next time! I think she would love the giant walking plushies,” he adds, still studying the Koala-man with his nose pointed, like a police dog searching for drugs. 

“So you’re feeling guilty too,” Killua says, resigned, and Gon nods.

“Well, I know she said that she didn’t mind it, but mx Pitou is still really scary. I guess she was the only one fitted to the task, though. I’m not sure what to do with children.”

Killua is pretty sure he would figure it out, Gon is a learning-by-doing kind of guy and he’s also amazing with animals, so he would probably just need to act like he was tending to some kind of bald, tiny monkey. 

Killua doesn’t tell him aloud, he’s way more concerned with his own giant ball of guilt in regards to abandoning his sister in enemy territory. He’s been dipped in guilt and now he’s sweating it; that would also explain why he can’t really decide if today it’s cold or hot. He shoves both hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt as Gon proposes to take Alluka there on a business day, so that Nanika wouldn’t be spooked by the crowd.

Killua looks at him – so, so bright – and _despairs_. 

Gon puts up a puzzled look, but Kalluto cuts his question in half, popping out between them with his bouncing bob-cut. 

“Brother, we need another person for the duck shoot thing!”

“Excuse you what?”

Kalluto rolls his eyes and points his finger towards the stand. 

It’s a circular hellish thing, with bright flashing lights and, well, ducks. They run in a string of heads and tails at shooting range, right over a downpour of obnoxious prizes. 

Gon blinks.

“Oh, that looks fun! Let’s go Killua, I want to play too!”

“But then we’ll be uneven again,” Pakunoda points out. 

“Let’s do a Battle Royale kind of thing,” Chrollo says then, looking perfectly calm and peacefully delighted at the idea of a killing spree. “Everyone against everyone.”

“I like that,” says Feitan, in his heavy-accented gloomy voice.

Machi has bubble-gum pink hair and she looks ready to punch people for addressing her on the basis that you probably just needed a good beaten anyway. She growls really loud, hands on her hips. 

“It’s boring as hell… Guys, let’s go get ice-cream. Paku, you come with me?”

“Actually…” she’s already taking a gun from the guy at the stand. She’s the most collected of the bunch and she looks somewhat mature with her hooked nose and smart casual attire.

Machi groans really hard again, but then she lets Shalnark and Phinks push her to the nearest ice-cream parlor. Shizuku comes right behind them, whistling.

Killua gets the sudden instinct to split with Gon and go chaperone them, but Chrollo and his dark goth-undertaker demeanor smile at him from his sideline position.

“They will be fine. Phinks is extremely responsible.”

Killua blinks at him and decided that, if he’s going to give in and actually answer, there will be no turning back from something sorely unpleasant. And he’s got a headache already. And also, apparently, a gun. 

“Why,” he asks, to Kalluto and the stupid piece of junk plastic. 

“Just do it. Let’s try to win something.”

Killua sighs again and Gon pats him on the shoulder. He too has got a gun of his own and Killua is really pretty fucking weirded out, because Gon and guns shouldn’t even exist in the same proximity for the peace of his mind. 

It’s pretty heavy for an air-gun, but that’s way better for balance and aim, plastic toys are too tricky. 

He doesn’t exactly dislike it, the feeling of a weapon in his hands, and that makes his guts dislike himself even more. He scratches at his neck and throws a glance behind him before give in to Kalluto’s demands and actually tries to concentrate without the irrational odd sensation of Illumi’s eyes planted on his scalp and his calm, eerie voice murmuring orders inside his ear.

He closes his left eye and aims at the place where the duck will be. The recoil is laughable, but it still manages to take Gon by surprise right beside him.

“Wow, how did you do that!” he yells, when his pellet has planted itself in the void while Killua’s own took down the first duck with a loud, clear bang. 

“It’s called class,” he says, even if it’s called training and also probably someone should have called the social services at some point

Then he has to teach him, of course, and Gon is always so concentrated on whatever the task at hand is, that Killua too starts to forget about Illumi and think about ducks. He pinches Gon’s arm to adjust his grip and lecture him and everybody else on gun safety until he too starts having fun, because if you’re not going to kill actual living animals it’s way more like playing a game – and one he’s really good at.

The damage is done, then, and Killua takes down duck two, three, four, five and more until Feitan declares that he, in fact, prefers swords – like that has ever been an option to begin with – and leave them to go fetch an ice-cream for himself. Killua isn’t sure he has a mouth under that high collared sweatshirt, but he then has to play actual attention because, after Gon and Kalluto too finished their pellets and Chrollo decided that he was more interested in watching them play, he’s still game with that Pakunoda girl, who’s actually incredibly good. 

Killua finishes his last duck with a deadly shot in the eye and Gon whistles in his ear.

“You’re still the best,” Kalluto says, satisfied. Sometimes Killua really doesn’t get him. 

“With twenty-five hits you can have a giant plush, the Super Soaker or the weird anime pillow,” says the guy behind the desk, half rude half maybe scared at the sheer display of guerrilla skills he’s been shown. 

Gon tilts his head in front of the sexy anime pillow like a very smart but confused dog. 

“Choose,” Killua says, to Kalluto. “Maybe you can get the boob-ed pillow and use it to bribe Milluki or something.”

Kalluto blinks at him like he’s honestly surprised by the offer. 

“But you won. I hit less than fifteen times.”

“If I take the Super Soaker, this one would find a way to make me regret it in the span of the next two seconds,” he says, a thumb directed towards Gon.

“Maybe,” he says, and grins. “I mean, I would never!”

Kalluto looks at them bantering like they’re a couple of talking puppets, face unreadable.

“Okay, if you insist… I’ll take that Pusheen plush. The stuffed cat,” he specifies, because the mustached guy behind the stand really doesn’t know what he’s talking about. 

“Well, now that this is set. We should go fetch the others and go try the Deadly Dungeon of Doom,” Chrollo says, after he graciously accepted Pakunoda’s own price as a gift. He puts the toy scythe in his belt and points at the street like he’s going to guide them all to conquer the park. 

“Deadly Dungeon of Doom. Sounds lovely,” says Killua when the rest of the group is already back, ice-creams almost finished, and they’re menacing one another with the toy scythe. Feitan has returned with a ridiculously frilly umbrella he took from who knows where and Nobunaga has already snatched it away to bestow knighthood over a perplexed Shizuku. 

“The Deadly Dungeon of Doom is an indoor roller coaster that will spook you by messing with your sense of direction and self,” Gon says. He’s reading from the backside of his map. 

“You should definitely say that with a way spookier voice,” Machi says.

“ _And self_ ,” Gon repeats, eyes crossed and a growl mounting in the back of his throat. Killua chokes on his own saliva. 

They manage to get on the carts after a girl in an orange polo-shirt with great circles under her eyes has explained to them the physiological risks connected to paying for being blended on a coaster like a group of freshly peeled fruits for a smoothie. 

“You can have it back at the end of the ride,” she adds, taking away umbrellas and fake weapons. Kalluto manages to grasp at his Pusheen and don’t let go, so at least he will have something to cushion him if he’s going to slip through the safety bar like Machi is predicting. Killua’s reptile brain dutifully notes that she’s using the tone of someone adept at prophesying misfortunes.

“Okay, this one Alluka would have hate,” says Killua, feeling his guilt-problem improve the same moment the cart takes off with a rumble of oily wheels to enter fast approaching darkness.

“Wait, I have a flashlight!” Gon says, and starts moving to fish it off from his pocket.

“That kinda kills the point of this entire thing,” says Killua, at the shadowy planes of his face, but laughing right before the world goes upside down and he has to breathe in so that nothing comes out from his stomach. 

The Deadly Dungeon of Doom doesn’t contain anything that Killua hasn’t already seen inside the basement of his own creepy childhood home, with the upsides of being there with Gon’s laugh inside his ears as they’re thrown around like, as he says, the useless stuff inside the centrifuge back in the lab. 

Killua sure as hell starts to feel like useless stuff when they put feet back on the ground and he discovers that he is, in fact, an old man that already needs a pause. 

His brain is upside down. It’s exactly as awful as it sounds and it doesn’t make even an ounce of sense. He breathes through his nose and out from his mouth while he walks and tries to actively concentrate on Gon’s callous palm on his like it’s the gravitational center of the entire universe. 

“So you’re like, together?” Machi asks, munching on her gum. Gon smiles both at her and the guy who’s giving him tickets for the next hellscape. Killua’s feet hurt just like his head, he gets his ticket and fails to tuck it inside his pocket. 

“Guess we are,” Gon says, candid. 

Machi nods like she was expecting the confirmation.

“I can read you tarots, so you’ll know if you’re, like, compatible.”

“Tarots,” Killua repeats, baffled. They step over the gates of the Dreadful Dark Continent, eponymous of the whole park, like they’re ready for a lovely picnic. “Like. The cards.”

“Oh, Machi is gifted for these kinds of things,” Shizuku says. She must think it isn’t ridiculous in the slightest, so Killua does his best not to laugh at her face. 

Kalluto scoffs.

“Of course they’re compatible,” he says. “They’re literally married.”

“The word literally is definitely mistakenly used in that sentence,” Killua says, but it’s really like he’s talking to the fake rocks that are starting to surround them. 

“You sleep in the same room,” Kalluto says, deadpanning at him. “You have matching mugs. I’ve seen them.”

The most dreadful part of this Dreadful Dark Continent thing is probably the company. Killua is appreciating the solid ground beneath his feet after having been blended on a cart with a screaming crowd of adolescents, but sure as hell he’d like for those particular adolescents to stop looking at him and Gon like they’re a couple of aliens.

“What kind of mugs are we talking,” Shalnark asks, with a glimpse of pure evilness in his eyes. “Uvo and Nobu have those.”

“We don’t,” Nobunaga says, and he’s purple. “It was an accident.”

“They mailed each other the exact same Super Mario Bros mugs,” Shalnark says, because apparently he really likes to spit out stories that make other people spontaneously combust, even if Killua is luckily unaware of what an Uvo should even be. 

What Killua is unaware of it’s also that this entire park must be, in fact, the faithful reproduction of a sadistic dream his father had about some kind of family-friendly training camp of doom.

There is stuff to climb, wooden barriers and zip-lines spread over bushes that look perfect for ambushes. 

Killua frowns at the safety harness the guy with the awkward hawk mask handed him before starting to explain how to put it on and use it to climb over suspension bridges and throw oneself in between trees using a pulley. 

“This looks pretty fun,” Gon says, already half-strangled by his own harness, light fleshing out his profile as he studies the framework of rope ladders settled in between trees like enormous cobwebs.

Machi jumps on her pulley full-force and lets out a rallying cry, pink hair in the wind.

Killua asks “does it?” only for Kalluto to do the exact same thing, but with the same silent concentration he applied to every single task. 

“It does! Remember when we managed to pass through the whole forest without putting foot on the ground back at my grandma’s place?”

Of course Killua remembers that, it was running from home attempt number twelve, if he remembers correctly. 

“I was so happy there was someone else who could climb like me without getting scared,” Gon says, grinning at the thought, extending a hand. “Let’s do it again!”

Killua rolls his eyes, but of course he’d do it again. With safety harness or without, as long as it’s Gon’s hand the one that he’s holding onto. 

*

The security measures are pretty annoying, but they can still try to get a good old race out of it. They almost knock each other out when Gon throws himself on the pulley way before Killua has reached the next tree. 

“Hey, you two! Another stunt and I’ll make you come down!” 

Killua looks at the guy with the hawk-mask from his very unstable position, dangling from the rope with Gon’s limb tangled on his own and Gon’s laugh in his hear. 

“We’re really sorry!” he yells, without even an ounce of sorry-ness in him. “Please, it’s our anniversary!”

“What the fuck,” Killua tries, and hits him with an elbow – the hawk-guy starts screeching again and carries on while they cover the remaining path dragging themselves painfully by scraping their palms on the metal cable.

“Hurry up, you two!” Kalluto yells, from the hem of the next suspension bridge.

“They really are pretty deeply involved,” Machi says, loud enough for anybody to hear, and then shrugs and starts jumping from one wood board to the next.

Hawk guy isn’t amused, he yells at them non-stop, big foam mask shaking on his head, until they’re finally back on the ground.

“You should be the adults in this thing, they’re going to banish us all,” Kalluto says, when they can finally remove those stupid safety helmets revealing another couple new bruises each. 

“Let them be, it is funnier this way,” Chrollo says, wistful like he’s intent on reminiscing his own youthful days. Killua would like to smack him on the forehead, but he lets Gon patting him on the shoulder to join the rest of the group as they approach the next dumb ride. 

*

Time is going backward. Fun is dead. Killua is _tired_.

“This is the worst idea I ever had,” he says – actually _growls_ onto Gon’s shoulder as he pats on his back.

“Come on, it’s not that bad… Even if I don’t understand why a nest would be filled with… Sorry, what are you guys again?” he asks, to the closest actor wearing a supposedly scary mask. It has hollow dark eyes and a creepy smile, but the person underneath has the voice of an energetic girl.

“We’re ghastly being from an ancient time!”

“But why is the ride called the Nasty Nest. Nest of what?”

“Ants!” the girl tells him.

“You’re an ant, then?” Gon tries again. He’s sporting the same expression he gets when he’s trying to understand math.

The masked girl shakes her head.

“No, sir. We’re ghastly being from an ancient time!”

“But why—”

Killua grabs him from the collar of his shirt to drag him forward while ghastly beings from ancient times, whatever that should mean, insist on coming out from the sides blabbering admonitions. Feitan pokes one in his belly with the tip of his umbrella.

It’s more an exercise in patience than an amusement… they still call it rides even if technically they aren’t riding anything? That must be why Shizuku starts riding on Phink’s back instead.

Anyway, at that point Killua is busier being absolutely not scared by the displays of pretty realistic scolopendras that an actor shoves onto them from an actual bucket while they cross an intersection. 

“They’re good,” Gon says, when Killua retches as he slurps a giant worm without even making a face. “They’re fake. It’s candy,” he then reveals, looking at them like they’re a bunch of zombies from The Night of the Leaving Dead. 

“He is like Uvo,” Shizuku says, pensive, and Machi nods. 

“Yeah, no shit. Are you a Taurus? He’s definitely a Taurus… What are you?”

“Confused,” Killua says, even if disgusted would have also been a perfectly truthful answer. 

“She’s talking about the horoscope I think. He’s a Cancer. Do we get a high score?”

“Is it some kind of competition now?” Killua asks, and he’s actually pretty worried because Gon is impossible to deal with when he gets competitive.

“Sometimes relationships are written in the stars,” Chrollo says, right before shooing a poor actor away with his plastic scythe. 

“Are they meant to scare us?” Pakunoda asks, with genuine confusion and a sticky worm between her fingers.

“I guess. Jeez, this thing is dumb,” Shalnark says around a yawn, as he scans the dull green neon lights that frizzle on the low ceiling.

“I was hoping for actual scary shit… Next time we should do an escape room, I tell you,” says Phinks.

“You have to be, like, eighteen to do those?” Machi points out, but Kalluto is shrugging already.

“I guess it’s fine if there’s an actual adult with us. Kill, you’ll come, won’t you?”

Killua doesn’t actively experience a stroke, but his lower eyelid starts trembling.

“We will see,” he says, as he steps onto disgustingly crunchy something and a maniacal laugh explodes around for whatever reason.

The Nasty Nest is way nastier than any amusement attraction should have any right to be. They have to walk in a dimly lit maze-like corridor with slime bleeding from the walls and a chemical smell of something rotten that Killua isn’t fully sure is part of the setting and it’s making his head spin.

“Fuck everything, let’s go out,” he says, when Gon starts swinging too, nose pressed in the inside of his elbow and eyes watering at an alarming rate.

“I’m fine, it’s just… ew. Ew.”

“You’re not fine, you’re going to barf. I’m going to barf too, and I have had sinusitis since I was, like, five.” While Gon has the best nose Killua has ever witness.

“It’s not scary, it’s just disgusting,” says Gon, muffled over his arm. “Wouldn’t it be funnier to go hiking inside a real cave? Caves don’t smell like this.”

“Actually,” Shizuku says, fingers still entwined with Phink’s even if he’d probably benefit from using both his hands to stop the fake cobwebs from splattering on his face at every turn. “Caves are often habitat for bats and they’re notorious for producing enormous amounts of guano which obviously…”

“Amounts of what?” Nobunaga asks, raising his voice above another round of recorded maniacal laughter and screeches.

“Guano,” Shizuku insists, and Gon’s snorts a laugh himself. 

“It’s the proper name for some animal’s defecations,” he explains, smiling. 

“Defe…”

“Shit, Nobu, they’re talking animal shit,” Shalnark says, delighted. 

“Oh my god, you are all disgusting,” Nobunaga decides, and stretches his steps to leave them behind and go snatch Feitan’s umbrella once again. 

“Enough,” Killua decides, when Gon swings on his feet at the next explosion of stinky air. “I’ve had enough, we’re going out. Don’t do anything stupid, I’ll catch you at the exit.”

Kalluto may have answered with a mocking waving of his hand but at that point Killua has already hang Gon’s arm over his shoulder to carry him out of that darn labyrinth.

Places like this should be banned – why anybody in their right mind would like for people wearing confused insect-like costumes to pop out from behind and trigger every single one of their fight or flight responses. 

When the next shadow looms at the periphery of his vision, long, slimy tentacle touching Gon’s shoulder, Killua’s brain snaps – he grabs the extremity, barely registering the softness of the foam, and he pulls, right palm already crashing into the general direction of the offender’s face. 

*

So, Killua did punch someone today. He would have preferred for them to be Illumi, but it’s an innocent bystander instead.

“I’m so sorry,” he’s trying to tell, but there aren’t many ways to act sorry enough in front of a broken nose.

“It’s okay, the mask softened the impact. And, anyway, it’s actually a pretty common occurrence,” the guy says, over the redness spreading onto Gon’s handkerchief. He’s got big puffy lips and Killua isn’t sure if that’s his anatomy or if he actually managed to beat him up that bad. He has to be at least eighteen to work there, so the fact that he’s small enough to be comfortably seated on the big round octopus head of his costume doesn’t mean that Killua actually hit a child. 

“Is it common for your nose to bleed or for people to assault you?” Gon asks, while he searches for other handkerchiefs inside his man-purse. Killua always pokes fun at him but he has to admit that it can come in handy, especially given Gon’s habit of filling it with handkerchiefs and band-aids like his aunt Mito used to do with his backpack when he was twelve and constantly trying to skin himself over concrete at any given opportunity. 

“They get scared,” Octopus Guy says, and he’s definitely talking about assaulters. He removes the bundle of paper and sniffs. The blood starts running again and Killua feels the urge to start banging his head onto the slime covered walls. “And apparently scared people are also violent.”

“I really am sorry,” Killua repeats, flat and worn out.

“And I’m Ikalgo,” the guy says instead. It must be a lame dad-joke: he’s definitely way over eighteen and simply short. 

“You can keep the handkerchiefs. Is there a way to get out of this place without punching other people?” Gon asks, so mind-blowingly practical. Maybe it’s just that Killua’s brain really feels sluggish today. 

Ikalgo blinks and says “sure” and then proceeds into hopping again on two feet to guide them over a secondary metal door, marching through the corridor like a boy scout while he shares perplexity over his own job.

“I really don’t get why an octopus out of all things, you know? I think I’d make an astounding spider, for example. It’s always a matter of eight legs, but it makes way more sense than an octopus, doesn’t it?” His voice is a buzzing sound, Killua follows it like a line since he’s finding harder and harder to coordinate his own feet with some resemblance of spatial awareness. 

They end up walking through corridors and corridors of boring grey and neon lights, boxes full of scene costumes and jars of slime. The same nasty stanch from the Nest is slapping Killua’s nose to become a full-blown headache when they finally step back into the sunny afternoon. His breakfast is definitely trying to strangle him from the insides at this point. 

“Octopuses have three hearts,” Gon is saying, pretty engrossed in the conversation despite being also pretty much green in all the wrong ways. “I think they’re awesome.”

Ikalgo seems seriously befuddled at the mere thought, big foam tentacles bouncing around. In the light they look soft enough that Killua brains actively contemplate to just fall asleep on them and ask Ikalgo to carry him. Luckily he gets blinded by the reflection on his bald head before he has the chance to make a foul out of himself. 

“Are you sure you can just leave your spot like this?” Gon asks, when they’re finally seated down on a bench, breathing fresh air like they were the one who spilled actual blood while working.

Ikalgo smiles and shrugs in the sun.

“It’s okay. My contract is going to expire next week, I’m a free man,” he says. “I mean, I’m also going to be an unemployed man, but at least I’ll be a man instead of an octopus.”

Killua doesn’t know if it should sound more heartwarming than weird, but he’s the one who almost broke this guy’s nose, so he limits himself to an empathic nod and accepts his business card with the promise of contacting him if they happen to stumble upon an interesting job offer.

“Actually, they’re kind of searching for another person at the cinema where I work,” he says. “I could recommend you.”

Ikalgo blinks, two times, and then hugs him.

“What did just happen,” he says to Gon, when they’re finally walking again to the exit of the Nasty Nest on inexplicable weak knees.

“I think you made a friend, Killua.”

“Impossible, I never did such a thing in my whole life,” he rebuts, so that Gon can laugh really hard into his poor eardrums while he puts all his weight onto him for support.

The ground is bumpy on purpose and the air is pretty humid under all that trees, but reaching the Nasty Nest exit is a ten-minute walk at best and shouldn’t be that tiring. 

“What’s happening. I’m going soft like he said,” Killua says, exhausted.

Gon shakes his head.

“I don’t know. I really feel beaten down today… Well, at least we’re not going to be eaten by an alligator, so that’s a good thing.”

“You really think an alligator can be any worse than my brother’s friends?”

Gon grins and drags his feet for another half meter.

“Well, I think it’s cool that your brother likes spending time with you so much? You know, I kinda envy you a bit.”

Killua doesn’t drop him on the ground but he gets really close to at least fall onto him.

“You do what now?” he blurts, but Gon is still smiling.

“Yeah, I mean… I don’t like Illumi, but Alluka is awesome and now that I got to talk to him, Kalluto is pretty funny too. So, you know, having siblings really sounds fun, that’s all.”

On this day, at this moment, Killua would be way more inclined to definitely deny the whole concept. Only Alluka _is_ awesome, she’s the real MVP, babysitting little Meruem like a pro while they goof around in the dumb horror park with a bunch of teenagers. And Kalluto is… kind of a pain in the ass, but in a good way – in a pretty classic little brotherly way and, given Illumi and Milluki, it’s actually a miracle that he managed to turn out like that. That their relationship could turn out like that instead of something twisted and painful that makes Killua sweat at the thought of Illumi waiting for them right in front of the apartment ready to scold him and take Kalluto away. 

They’ve found the exit: It’s a pretty anticlimactic round hole that looks a bit too much like the asshole of an actual giant ant. Killua is disgusted and mesmerized – mostly at Gon.

“I think we’re even, though,” he says, as they sit down on the ground to make some real ants climb over their legs. “I mean, I got full score on siblings, but you got full score on functioning adults.”

“But Ging,” Gon says, in a grin. Ging and functioning in the same sentence is a bit laughable.

“Yeah, but you got Mito _and_ Kite. I got a helicopter wrapped in crochet and Major General Fend for Yourself or Die, you know.”

“Your grandpa still sounds pretty cool.”

“If you’re into reminiscing the good old days and approve of death penalty, I guess.”

Before Gon has the time to say something silly like “we both have Leorio now, though” – which is ridiculous but still pretty true, given that Leorio is, in fact, the kind of person that makes sure you’re eating all your vitamins – the giant ant butthole gives birth to an unimpressed Chrollo and the rest of his minions. Kalluto has to jump out because the step is too high for him. He’s still clutching at the Pusheen plush.

“Here they are,” Machi says, throwing fake cobwebs out of her hair. “You two lovebirds.”

“You’ve missed the ball pit made of disgusting ant eggs,” Nobunaga says, and he too is trying to fix his hair bun after something viscous and green has taken home on his head. “Feitan killed them.”

“I won. Wasn’t that the point?” he says, umbrella secured to his belt. 

“It was most definitely not,” Shalnark says, unfazed. 

“What now?” Kalluto asks, when they’ve already circled Gon and Killua like a flock of vultures.

Chrollo puts a finger on his lips, reflecting as everybody else looks at him like he’s some kind of prophet. 

“The World Tree,” he says then, and he’s pointing at the tallest mass of metal shining like water under a cloudy, damp sky. 

It doesn’t look like a tree at all, but maybe it will when their dumb asses will be seated on the crown of seats to look down from eighty meters of dumbass amusement. 

Gon stands up with a jump and breathes once again like he’s trying to center himself. His face is way less green after they left that stink behind and he looks once again ready to do all the dumb things, from climbing trees to punching poor, innocent workers.

Killua breathes too and stands up without help, which his body decides is enough of an accomplishment. He then spends the whole route to the World Tree trying to convince his legs to cooperate.

“Maybe we should wait here,” Gon says, while they’re already in line.

Killua blinks, perplexed.

“Why?”

“I mean… Are you okay?”

Killua feels a bit like his internal organs are squashed, today, but he can still breeze through this kind of stuff no problem. He trained like a Navy Seal when he was a middle schooler, he used to climb over any kind of crazy shit manually and without protections. He doesn’t have any problem with heights nor with being tossed around, or upside down. Even without his older brothers using him as a target for any kind of sick, scary idea, Killua used to do crazy stunts with his skate all the time. That’s exactly how he and Gon started talking at the park now almost a decade ago. His body is just acting really dumb today for some reason and apparently is a visible thing, which is fucking embarrassing. Whatever is it that’s happening, he can’t be a dead weight over Gon and ruin this day even more – he just _can’t_.

“You want to go up,” he says, looking Gon’s face. “It’s a tree, you love trees.”

“I do,” Gon obliges. “But I prefer actual trees, you know. The green kind.”

“Yeah, me too,” says Killua, but at that point they’re already being shoved forward by the rest of the line. 

They sit down, Killua side to side with a very unimpressed Shizuku and Gon beside Nobunaga. 

“Please keep your hands on the bar,” the nasal voice of another attendant says, right before the seats start going up. 

“So, it’s a big lift. Is that all?” Machi asks, annoyed. 

“I think the exciting part should be falling down,” Gon says, looking over his own shoes as the people behind them shrink to the size of ants.

“At least you won’t risk ending up disheveled,” she says, looking at his gravity-defying hair. 

Gon laughs and is such a pleasant sound that, for the first time since this whole ridiculous idea played out, Killua thinks that it isn’t that bad. It isn’t the Biopark or bungee jumping and sure as hell it wouldn’t have been his first choice for a romantic date, but it isn’t that bad. Nothing is, when Gon is there. 

“And down we go,” Shizuku says, smiling for the first time behind her glasses.

The air falls and so they do. So does Killua’s stomach. 

The last thing he thinks, before closing his eyes, is that he regrets everything.

*

Killua is starting to fear that he isn’t going to survive this day. His head is buzzing, the next step is like a fist on the roof of his mouth, but he tries to smile back at Gon and lets himself be dragged. 

“Please keep your hands on the bars,” says the guy at the stand before the umpteenth attraction made of screaming carts from hell. He too is wearing half-lidden eyes and a bored expression plastered from the shadow of his bright green cap to his big chin. 

Killua frowns because Kalluto is already disregarding the instructions, too engrossed into discussing Neon Genesis Evangelion dubious dialogue adaptation on Netflix with a pretty amused Chrollo and an interested Pakunoda. 

Killua grips at his own bar and considers the curve of the coaster twirling high in the sky. 

He should find it amusing – it’s a motherfucking amusement ride inside an amusement park. 

The face-smacking wind, the rush of adrenaline from the sheer lack of control, the contagious screams and Gon’s own bright laugh in his left ear, like a fresh stream, it should all be _awesome_.

“What the fuck,” he finds himself wheezing, while he proceeds to empty his guts right beside the dumpsters, a hand clutching at his stomach and Gon’s shadow looming over him with open concern. 

“So wasn’t he your cool brother? The uncool one is a wobbleworm, then?” he hears Phinks ask, with almost lovely candor. 

“Milluki is an actual wobbleworm,” Kalluto says, unfazed. “And I think Killua’s gotten soft. He used to be unstoppable at family soft-air, but he lives like a retired old man now.”

“Millennials are the worst. My father always says it,” Machi adds, with a very adult sigh.

Killua retches on the sidewalk a little more and manages to somehow don’t mess up his shoes. 

“I’m going to kill them,” he says, to the Kleenex Gon’s giving him. “We aren’t even proper millennials, they’re just…” he stops his rant, because Gon is watching him with eyes big and worried.

“Are you okay? You never get sick like this. Should we call it a day?”

Killua blinks, still half-bent on his own disgusting puke. 

“No way. I’m fine, it’s just… Guess I’ve eaten too many popcorns and shit at work these days. I’m fine.”

“Can we go now?” Kalluto yells, from his vomit-safe position. “We want to go try the Contorted Coaster, you…”

“I think we’re going to pass,” Gon says, before Killua could do anything more expressive than picturing in great details the experience of barfing from a vertical loop, ears ringing. “We’ll wait at the bar! Please be safe,” he adds, with his responsible voice. It’s a fake, he musters it up with aunt Mito sometimes, but it’s always right before they do something really stupid and unsafe like diving headfirst from a cliff. 

“I’m old and decrepit and you should dump me inside a dumpster because that’s where I belong,” Killua says, when his stomach has finally set into a gurgling knot instead of trying to squeeze itself out of his body and splat down on the concrete. 

Gon orders chamomile with no trace of input from Killua’s part, since he also hates fucking chamomile, but whatever okay, if you’re a barfing dumpster you probably just deserve chamomile. 

They go to sit down on the sticky plastic chair of the bar. Gon too looks the kind of worn out that sometimes he gets when something awful happens and he becomes focused and closed, like his brain is shutting all the other functions to overthink. 

Killua feels so fucking guilty that he’s tempted to drown himself inside his chamomile. Which is in fact inside a big paper cup that smells of fast food. His stomach makes a double flip, but he didn’t survive eating poisonous mushrooms just for Milluki’s amusement. 

“You know what?” he says, over the chamomile’s fumes, straight into Gon’s pouting face. “It’s our day. We earned it, we’re going to own it and enjoy the fuck out of it.”

Gon blinks, mouth agape.

“But if you’re not feeling…”

Killua takes that chamomile and spills it all inside the closest flower pot.

“I’m fine. The kids are fine and they won’t end up dead just because we take half an hour for ourselves. I want to spend half an hour with you,” he adds and something clicks; Gon’s eyes fix on Killua’s own and strengthen into the sturdy brilliance of a thousand suns. 

“You’re right. I want that too. I really, really want to spend half an hour with you and it’s going to be awesome!”

“Awesome,” Killua repeats.

“We’re going to have our romantic date!” Gon blurts, and he’s standing up in the middle of the bar, chair crushed on the ground. “I’m going to kiss the hell out of you! I’m going to…”

Killua doesn’t hear what he’s going to do, because his eardrums start pounding in a cacophony of white noise. 

“Gon,” he slurs, on the verge of combustion. 

“Oh, yeah, uhm. Sorry, I got excited.” He excuses himself to the flailing eyebrows of the people around. When Killua finds the courage to remove the hands from his boiling face, Gon’s already studying the map.

“Here,” he says, confident grin and index pointing in the middle of the map like he’s just found a treasure. “It’s not crocodiles, but sure as hell it’s romantic!”

Killua frowns at the blue line but Gon’s smile has always been everything he ever needed to comply with the stupidest ideas.

*

Knowing his luck, this thing is going to crush into an actual waterfall and they’re going to die. 

“Well, it’s…” he starts, because Gon is watching him. Pouting.

“You’re not having fun at all,” he says, with eyes so uncharacteristically desperate that Killua feels another pang in his insides. Or maybe it’s just the motion sickness, since apparently it’s now a thing in his life. 

“Of course I’m having fun,” he says, hands grasping at the bar when another waterfall catches their swan-boat and the universe is collapsing inside Killua’s own skull in rushes of hot, nonsensical nausea. “This is fine… Gon?”

“It isn’t fine,” he says. He’s definitely looking way greener than usual and not in a very healthy way. He shakes his head at the next waterfall and starts pedaling with a bit more energy. Killua is pretty sure he’s going to leave both his legs there. “I really hoped you’d manage to have fun anyway, but in the end I think I totally screwed up… I’m so sorry Killua.”

“I… you didn’t screw anything,” he says, and the giant ass swan swings in the current. He isn’t clutching the handles, he’s not that weak. 

“You never got to tell me what you really wanted to do, and then your brother happened and I just hoped we could have fun together anyway, but I know you stress yourself out when…”

Killua’s family is a dumpster fire and sometime Killua’s life severely resembles one too, _but Gon_. 

Gon may be a fire – too warm, too bright– but never a dumpster, _never_. 

So, Killua has in fact learned a thing or two in those years of being Gon’s best friend and then Gon’s designated pillow and partner in crime – and, yes, boyfriend. 

Surprise kisses are like spell casting in Greed Island, the recipient can’t do anything but submit even if in Gon’s case it lasts less than a second before he gets the upper hand, because it’s just how he is. 

“What was that for?” Gon says when they separate and he catches his breath and maybe some balance, even if the latter is pretty difficult while sailing on a plastic giant bird. 

“You, dumbass,” Killua says. “This is exactly… I don’t need to do anything special, you know. It’s okay to just— I’m okay if we just spend time together and we actually did so…”

“Oh. Well. Yeah,” Gon says. “And we are alone now. On the lovey-dovey cart.”

“Of doom,” Killua adds, but uh, yeah. They are. 

They look at each other and it’s pretty ridiculous, Killua knows it full well: Alluka spends a lot of time explaining to him in details how much he and Gon are the most ridiculous people on the planet; but they’re alone, now, finally, and they can look intensely in each other eyes as much as they want and they can hold hands and just be… Rammed by a giant-ass pink swan. 

“Watch out, losers!” Nobunaga is screaming. Kalluto is laughing so much that, when the swan swings and then falls on its side, Killua doesn’t exactly get what’s happening until he’s already falling. The water freezes his brain, then, and he can’t even make himself to be properly upset. 

*

This has to be a nightmare. There’s no other possible explanation. 

Gon coughs and deflates a bit more inside the bundle of blankets.

“You are wrong,” Killua says, to Leorio and his evidently broken devilish instruments. “I’m not sick. I don’t get sick.”

Leorio isn’t a patient guy and sure as hell isn’t patient when he’s acting like a real doctor. 

He takes the thermometer back and shoves him under Killua’s nose for the third time.

“This is science. Science is saying you’re sick, not me. It isn’t that difficult to accept.”

“Being sick is awful,” Gon says, eyes fluttering behind his bucket. It reeks of abhorrent human fluids, which probably triggers the next session of vomiting really hard.

Leorio breathes from the nose and down through the mouth, still seated onto the chair that Killua usually uses as a substation of his wardrobe. 

“It’s Kalluto’s fault. I’m going to kill him,” Killua says, and he’s trying to find a way to disentangle himself from the blanket without uncovering Gon. “Just let me… I’m going to kill him!”

“Just lay down, okay?” Gon says, and he’s barely able to hold him, he too as weak as a puppy. He coughs and then laughs, because he’s also a dumbass. 

“The both of you aren’t going to kill anyone like this,” Leorio says, aggravated. “Men, you know I’ve got real patients to take care of, don’t you? Don’t make me sedate you.”

“Isn’t that illegal,” Alluka asks, popping out from the door. “How are they, doc?” she asks, bypassing everyone to talk directly with Leorio. 

He sighs, royally pissed.

“They’re going to survive. It’s a common misconception but technically the flu doesn’t have anything to do with falling in the water, freezing or not. So it’s not Kalluto’s nor anybody’s fault,” he adds, looking at Killua. “You two were probably going to get sick anyway, it’s just a coincidence.”

“Little Meruem’s been sick all week long, that’s why mx Pitou was so riled up about us being loud, you know?” Alluka says, still waiting just right over the edge of the room like she thinks she’s going to catch something if she dares to come even a bit closer despite having been glued to little Meruem himself for the whole day.

“Whatever, I don’t care about stupid science,” Killua says. He’s not sick, his thoughts have never been clearer. “I’m sure that killing Kalluto would at least make the Karma happy.”

“You’re really starting to become superstitious, aren’t you?” Gon says, still smiling like a dumbass. 

Killua groans, hard. He can’t really keep his head straight – being sick really is awful.

“What is that,” he asks, while Leorio is trying to convince Gon to go to his own bed instead of occupying Killua’s – not that it matters, though, they’re already sharing nasty stomach bugs and horrible bodily fluids. 

Alluka blinks and lowers her chin onto the soft head of a Pusheen plush.

“Oh,” she says, grinning hard at Killua. “Kalluto gave it to me.”

Killua frowns for one, two, three. 

“Did he, now.”

“It’s super cute, don't you think? Nanika loves it.”

“It’s just that I’m too old for that kind of stuff!” Kalluto yells, voice growling from the kitchen. “I guessed she would have appreciated it more.”

Killua looks at Alluka who looks at him. She’s still sporting a wide variety of fingers paint on her cheeks and forehead from her encounter with Meruem, and Killua has rarely seen her look this happy. 

“Anyway, Illumi is coming to get me,” Kalluto says, his head appears near Alluka’s, face gloomy and resigned. “I’ll go wait for him downstairs so that you don’t have to see him. Thanks for coming with me even if you were sick… Thanks to you too, Freecs.”

“It was fun!” Gon says, with the biggest smile. “At least before I started feeling like a wreck.”

Killua really doesn’t know what to say, so he wheezes a deadly sound that makes Leorio’s forehead crease. Kalluto rolls his eyes, and he’s out, backpack on.

“Is he possessed,” Killua mouths, when even his footsteps have finally vanished on the staircase.

“Guess he’s growing up,” Alluka says, in her wisest tone.

Leorio looks at her, who’s clutching at the plush; at Gon, who’s clutching at the bucket and wearing his frog pajamas; and at Killua too, who’s clutching onto Gon and probably looks exactly how he feels: like a giant pink swan has tried to drown him in freezing water.

“Well, at least someone is,” he says, head shaking. “Let’s go, Alluka, or they’re going to infect us.”

“That would be cool, I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow!”

There must be a way to hear someone cry internally, but at that point Leorio has already closed the door, and Killua’s head is fallen back again onto the wall.

“Well,” Gon starts, then, hot and cold and sore under a pile of blankets. He snuggles closer, burning and soft. “We sure got our alone time, now.”

Killua— blinks. 

Maybe, when they’ll stop sharing disgusting bodily fluids and cough medicine, he is going to appreciate the turn of events. Maybe.

Right now, he grumbles at himself, because apparently after all these years he’s still stupidly besotted enough that the thought of strangling Gon passes through his mind only briefly. 

Gon’s shoulder, though, that’s still his favorite place to fall.


End file.
